


A Ship, and a Star to sail her by

by Morvidra



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Sailing To Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvidra/pseuds/Morvidra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is strange indeed: that a Dwarf should be willing to leave Middle-earth for any love, or that the Eldar should receive him, or that the Lords of the West should permit it. But it is said that Gimli went also out of desire to see again the beauty of Galadriel; and it may be that she, being mighty among the Eldar, obtained this grace for him. More cannot be said of this matter."</p>
<p>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ship, and a Star to sail her by

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2000GigolasFics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2000GigolasFics) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Seeing in her mirror that Legolas has begun to build his boat, Galadriel goes to the Valar and argues for Gimli to be allowed upon the straight road.
> 
>  
> 
> Title is - loosely - from the poem "Sea Fever" by John Masefield.

The old Dwarf leaned back in the great carved chair, stroking his iron-grey beard, and smiled at the Dwarflings clustered at his feet.

“You want a tale, do you?” he teased them gently. “Well now, I don’t know if I remember any tales…”

He was drowned out by high-pitched protests, and laughing, flung his hands in the air.

“Very well, very well, I give in! A tale it shall be. But what tale will you have tonight, hmm? _Ironfoot and the Black Rider_? _The Hammer of Grabthar_? _Azaghal_?”

There was a chorus of suggestions, but a deep voice from the back of the room called out: “Let us hear a tale about Gimli!” and met with general agreement.

“Gimli, eh? A good choice,” nodded the old Dwarf. “Ah, but there are many tales about Gimli: too many to list!” He chuckled, and lifted up the smallest Dwarfling from where they sat by his chair to nestle into his lap. 

“This is not a night for tales of battle,” he said, stroking the young one’s hair, “and certain other tales are best told when Dwarflings have gone to bed,” he added, at which someone at the back of the hall choked on their ale, and was enthusiastically pounded on the back. “But I think I can remember a story or two that some of you may not have heard. 

“Now you have all heard the tales of Gimli son of Glóin, of the line of Durin; who was part of the great Fellowship, and one of the Three Hunters; who was also Lord of Aglarond, and called Elf-Friend. And so I do not need to remind you of the great love that grew between Gimli and Legolas the Elf of Ithilien. Many tales tell of these two, and of how they travelled together after the fall of the Dark Lord, during the years of the High King Elessar of Gondor. But this is the tale, as it was told by Gimli himself, of how it came about that they travelled together on their last great journey…

~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The Lady Galadriel stood before the Valar. Mahal was there, Father of the Dwarves, mighty in his strength, and also the high Queen Elbereth shining in her beauty. As well, there was a Lord whom Dwarves know not, but who is called Mandos in the tongues of Men; it is in his Halls that Men – and Hobbits – dwell in death. And other Valar were present also, for gathered here were all of the High Ones of Arda to hear the words of the Lady. But even in such company she shone like a flame of gold, and all eyes were upon her.

“O highest among the Valar, I come to beg of you a boon,” spoke the Lady in her deep, rich voice. “And only you have the power to grant this request, simple though it is: I speak of the matter of Gimli the Dwarf, and of Legolas the Elf, and of the great love they bear each other.”

“Elves and mortals have loved before,” quoth one Vala impatiently. “Why do we waste time in this discourse? The Dwarf will die, as do all mortals, and the Elf will pass into the West. So it has ever been.”

“Not so,” the Lady said swiftly. “For it has been known before, that love should be the doom of one even among the Eldar. And surely Lord Mandos, at least, needs no reminder of the choice of Lúthien, called Tinúviel?”

“No,” that Lord acknowledged. “I recall Lúthien, as I remember all who come before me. Fairest she was among Elves, and her hair was dark as the cloud of night. But on her lay such sorrow as I had never before seen, and she chose freely to lose her immortality, and to live and die alongside her love.”

“This Legolas whom you champion, does he wish for the same?” asked the impatient one.

“I do not speak on behalf of Legolas Greenleaf,” the Lady said. “Rather, I ask this boon for the sake of Gimli Glóin’s son – Gimli Elf-Friend.”

A moment of silence fell across the room.

“You speak for the Dwarf?” The voice was now faintly incredulous.

The Lady did not flinch, but perhaps her voice sharpened slightly. “Gimli the Dwarf holds great favour in my sight, O Vala,” she said. “And more than this, he is held in renown above all Dwarves of Middle-Earth for his place among the Fellowship which brought about the destruction of the Dark Lord of Mordor. Most verily do I speak for him, and proud am I to claim him as friend. Were he able to speak for himself before this company, his tongue would prove itself silver enough to sway even such closed minds as some I see before me. Alas, my own tongue has not his skill.”

Thus did the Lady speak in support of Gimli the Dwarf, and many who were there marvelled at it. But now Father Mahal rose from his throne, and spoke for the first time, saying, “Even though the Dwarves of my creation were not looked for by Eru Ilúvatar, yet still he came to embrace them as his adopted children, and stayed my hand when I would have slain them at his word. Therefore they are no less a part of the world than Elves or Men, or than the Ent-children of my Queen, and I will hear none speak of them with scorn.”

And with these words, the disdainful one was silenced, and spoke no more at that council.

“The time grows short,” the Lady said, “so let us return to the matter at hand, for I would speak to you of Gimli, and of Legolas, and of those things which I have seen in my Mirror.”

“Tell us of your visions,” said Father Mahal. “If they show one of my children, then I would hear of it. For, although I know the heart of Gimli, shining star of his people, I cannot see the heart of his One, and I know not what path they may tread. What do you see?”

The Lady was silent for long moments before she spoke. “I see many things: some that are, some that have been, and some things that may yet come to pass.

“Hair of pale gold mingles now with hair of snow, and long fingers curl around a solid fist whose grip can still bend steel. I see fair trees and great mountains; carvings like the branches of trees, and among the branches are found axes and anvils; flowing Elvish runes mixed with another, more angular script.

“And I see a ship, a grey ship, in Ithilien. A small ship, no larger than two pairs of hands can sail. For the Lord of Waters summoned Legolas many long years ago, and although he has fought against it, the sea-longing grows in him now too strongly to be ignored. Thus, in the manner of his kindred, he now builds a ship to bear him across the water to Valinor.

“But, O Valar, his love burns in him too brightly to be left behind, and when he sails, he will not do so alone. And therefore I come to ask of you, that you permit Legolas to bring with him Gimli, son of Glóin, of Durin’s line.”

The silence now was complete.

“You would have us allow the Dwarf to come to Valinor?” asked one, at last.

“I would,” replied the Lady.

“And if we should forbid this?”

The Lady’s eyes danced. “Why, then I believe Legolas will pack Gimli among his baggage, and smuggle him into the woods of Valinor.”

And at this, Father Mahal let out a great crack of laughter, for he saw the truth of the Lady’s words. “Aye!” he cried joyfully. “Oh, let them sail together, I say! For I made Gimli as I made all Dwarves: to love but once in his life, if at all. And if his Legolas is likewise bound by such ties of love, then no part will I play in sundering them sooner than death.”

“And yet death will part them, whether that parting come later or sooner, it will come at last, and none may prevent that,” spoke the Lord of Mandos sombrely. “If they sail together to Valinor, it will but postpone the inevitable day of their parting. For mortals cannot live forever, even in the Undying Lands; the Ringbearers are proof enough of that. Do they know, these two, that death will still find them here?”

“They know.” The Lady’s voice was sad. “Or, at least, Gimli knows. He wishes to sail because of the great love he bears Legolas, and because he will not be parted sooner than they must, but he has no thought of escaping what must come. Gimli has now more than two hundred and fifty years to his name, and few among his people live for many more.”

“But what purpose, then, would be served by this journey?” was then asked, by whom I know not, but at this question the Lady cast off her seeming of gentleness. Dark, she grew, and great and terrible she stood before them.

“Have you no eyes to see, O Valar?” she cried now in a voice that thundered beyond bearing. “Have you no ears to hear; have I spoken to the empty air this long while? They love each other – let that be enough!”

And she dwindled, and furled her power about her like a cloak, and became again no more than she had been.

“Speak now, and make your decision, I beg,” she said to them, “lest we tarry here until the world’s ending. They wish to journey here together - will you say them ‘aye’?”

And now all looked to the eight among the Valar who are deemed great even among that company, for they would decide the doom of the lovers.

“Aye,” said the Lord of hunters, rising to his feet. “For hunters should stand together, and these two stood among the Three Hunters whose deeds are told in song and story.” To this, the Queen of all sorrow nodded her agreement, adding, “Grief will find them soon enough; I would deny them neither comfort nor hope until then.”

The Lord of Mandos spread wide his hands. “They are none of mine, for neither will ever come to my halls, and their doom is not mine to pronounce. Yet I would say them ‘aye’, if I might.”

“They have trysted many times in my forests, and my children count them as friends.” The Queen of all that grows shrugged slightly. “It pains me that they sail in a wooden ship, but I say them ‘aye’, even though one is an axe-bearer.”

“I say them ‘aye’!” boomed Father Mahal, glaring about him as though to intimidate his fellows into agreement. “Any ship that a dwarf crafts will be sturdy. Let them come!” Aside to his Queen, he muttered, “Gimli’s axe has never hewn a tree in his life; he has far too much respect for his weapons than to blunt them cutting wood!”

The Lord of Waters had not taken physical form for this meeting, but his voice echoed now from the nearby fountain, saying: _Would I have called the Elf for a hundred years of Men only to refuse him now? I care not with whom he comes: I say ‘aye’ to his coming._

“I, too, would say them ‘aye’,” said now the Queen Elbereth, and her husband the Lord of the skies rose to his feet and raised his arms in proclamation.

“Then know all ye who are here present” he declared, “that the doom of Gimli and Legolas shall be thus: that they may together sail to Valinor, and there they shall be welcomed. And together they shall rest on these shores for such time as they may, and none shall part them until death.”

There was some grumbling from the lesser Valar, but none spoke openly against the decision, and so it was deemed that Gimli the Dwarf might in truth accompany Legolas the Elf to Valinor, the first of Mahal’s children to do so.

And so it was in that year, that a dream came thrice to Gimli Glóin’s son, and once it came also to Legolas. And from that dream, they learned that the Lady had gained for them the dearest wish of their hearts, and both were loud in their rejoicing. Thus, on a day filled with the blessings of the sun, they set forth in their grey ship down the great River Anduin, there to find the sea, and the lands beyond.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The old dwarf carried the little Dwarfling up to bed, the child’s head already nodding against his shoulder.

“Grandfather?” the child asked sleepily as they were tucked into their cot, “was that tale really true?”

“It was passed down from Gimli himself,” answered the old Dwarf, who was Lord of Aglarond. “My father remembered hearing it as a Dwarfling, from Gimli’s own tongue, on the eve of his departure. Mind, I won’t say it hasn’t been improved a bit over the years,” he admitted with a grin. “But – they did sail West, Legolas and Gimli – and since no Dwarf had ever been allowed to do so before, there must have been some reason for the Valar to permit it. 

“And so… who knows? It could be true.”

**Author's Note:**

> Most Dwarves are really only concerned with Mahal of the Valar, so I have deliberately not given names for most of the Valar appearing in this fic (although it should still be possible to work out who they all are). However, I thought the Dwarves of Aglarond would likely know of Elbereth from Legolas, and probably Mandos appears in various tales and songs.
> 
> It may help to know that 'gimli' is an Adûnaic word meaning 'star'. 
> 
> Bonus points if you spotted the Galaxy Quest reference. :D


End file.
